


Sam Dinah Sara Dean

by cicerothecat



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyswap, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Genderbending, Humor, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicerothecat/pseuds/cicerothecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Dean’s Sara and Sam’s Laurel (and Sara’s Dean and Laurel’s Sam). Oh, and Oliver is Stephen, because why not? This Freaky Friday is brought to you by codependent siblings who will go to hell and back for each other and Katie’s bitchin’ smirk as Ruby in season 3. I’m not French but this may be a mistake. </p>
<p>Note: This is set immediately after Arrow 4.05 (Haunted), with Sam and Dean's characterization circa SPN 9.20 (Bloodlines).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam Dinah Sara Dean

**Author's Note:**

> The plot centers heavily on characters of opposite genders occupying each other's bodies. There is also some bodily function humor related to this. As such, it may be uncomfortable for some audiences. Also, be warned- there is profanity.

Dean and Sam got pentagram tattoos forever ago. So aside from two unfortunate angel possessions, a demonic possession when Meg was against them, and a way too ambitious high-schooler (all on Sam’s part), their bodies have pretty much been their own, give or take the question of whether their souls were intact. Regardless of their boomeranging between Earth and Heaven (and occasionally Hell), the guys have had the same scars forever. Even their hair is fairly constant.

That’s why Dean’s first instinct when he woke up with long blonde strands (some of which were caught in between his lips) was to try and remember who he brought back to the motel the night before. But when he starts groping around the bed, he finds himself all alone. And then he’s groping his own chest and shrieking. He stumbles out of bed, towards a mirror hanging on the wall, and there he realizes that he’s not in Kan-dean anymore. The only six-pack in sight is his abs, and the scars there aren’t his own.

As he appraises all the differences in his body (no mark of Cain being the most notable), he hears fumbling from down the hall. An “ouch” and “shit” and “fridge.” Dean doesn’t know the layout of this place, but the room tells him that whoever’s body he’s in does belong here- at least sort of. It doesn’t seem lived in, but photographs of her are everywhere. Hopefully he’s not taken over a ghost, but knowing his luck… Still, he prepares to leave the room. He stealthily slides down the hall, pausing in an open doorway to stare at the source of the noises he heard from the other room. Inside a tall blonde is stretching, reaching for her toes. While Dean would love to stay still and appreciate it, he figures his host might not approve.

“He-” his voice sounds too low. “Hey girl” he tries again, pitching his voice higher, and wincing at the unnatural falsetto. When the stretching girl twirls around to face him, he can’t help but fall into a crouch, reaching for weapons he doesn’t have.

“Ruby!”

“What? Haha no.” The girl is forcefully giggling, shuffling awkwardly and making exasperated motions with her hands while her gaze bounces every which way. It reminds him of Sam.

“Sammy… is that you?”

“Dean! Oh thank god. Help!”

“I don’t really know how little brother!”

“I’m in Ruby’s body! She’s been dead for over a decade! What if we’re in some twisted version of Hell?”

“Chill. What do you remember before waking up?”

Sam takes a moment to think. “Crowley was drunk. Saying we weren’t that special. And then Cas came in, and he said… she’s back. Do you think he meant Ruby?”

“I don’t know. There have been a lot of shes.” Dean’s face contorts in his ‘our lives are complicated what can we do about it’ grimace.

“It still doesn’t explain how we’re here. Ruby was strong, but not this strong.”

“Maybe Crowley’s fucking with us.”

“Maybe Gabriel’s alive again. I swear, if I have to see you die a thousand times in a row…”

“Not possible. Is it possible… did Ruby’s meatsuit actually survive Lilith?”

“I didn’t think so. I was a bit distracted, what with you being dead and all, but if the suit had survived she would have kept it.”

“And it’s not like with Cas? With the whole resurrection stuff allowing him to keep that body?”

“Maybe that’s it.” Sam is looking down, eyes scanning an invisible list of explanations, before adding, “It still doesn’t explain why we’re in these bodies.”

“At least we’re hot.” Sam’s look of reproach doesn’t faze Dean in the slightest.

“We should figure out what to do. Try praying to Cas and see if it does any good. I’m going to check around, see if I can find any ids or phones. Something to help us know who we’re in.” At Dean’s slight mischievous grin, Sam huffs out. But, even if it’s not Dean’s face, he can’t help but be relieved that his brother is honestly smiling for the first time in a while.

As he drifts out into the hallway, Sam notices an empty third bedroom. “We might have company soon.”

“K” Dean is more caught up in thoughts of the Mark. For the first time in a while, it’s not there on his arm. But the desire to kill is still there, which he doesn’t understand.

He leans in to pray, hoping Cas will choose now to pay attention to his prayers.

In the kitchen to the apartment, where all the appliances are gently used and take-out remnants abound, Sam finds a phone stand, blinking with unheard messages.

_“Hey Laurel. I’m going to stay over at John and Lyla’s for a little bit. Please don’t take it the wrong way- I just want Sara to be comfortable. We’ll talk when you drop by the bunker. Have fun, and call me if you need anything.”_

_“Hi girls. It’s Dad. I haven’t heard anything from you in a couple hours. I’m sure you’re out… doing your nighttime things, but please be extra safe. We just got Sara back. Can you call me sometime tomorrow? I was thinking we could visit your ma sometime soon. Tell Thea hi from me. Ok, love you. Bye.”_

_“Thea, hey it’s Alex. Oliver’s campaign manager. I hope you’re recovering alright from your motorcycle accident. Those can be brutal. Anyway, I’d love to see you, check in in person sometime. Um, if Laurel hears this, hey. I hope to see you both soon.”_

While listening to the messages, Sam has been nosing around the kitchen, looking out windows and flipping through the mail. Apparently they’re in Star City, Washington. Sam’s never heard of it before, which is strange. He knows the country, especially the West Coast, pretty damn well. The bills in the pile are addressed to a Dinah L. Lance, which Sam realizes probably makes her the Laurel from the messages. As far as he can gather, the apartment’s three occupants are Laurel, Thea, and at least temporarily this Sarah. They got lucky and Thea’s uncomfortable staying here while Sarah is here, so hopefully they won’t have to deal with her (though if Laurel doesn’t show up at the bunker when she’s expected then who knows). (Why do they have a bunker?) Anyways, Sarah is probably not good news- Thea was in an accident leaving her injured enough for crush-boy Alex to check in and maybe blames Sarah for it. And their dad said something about Sarah “just coming back.” From what? Rehab, maybe, is Sam’s thought when he notices a collection of AA chips in a jar. It would explain the lack of alcohol in the apartment. But then, what could their “night-time activities” be? Surely they wouldn’t tell their dad if they were out picking up guys.

Sam is also wondering if he’s in Laurel or Sarah, when it hits him. Dinah and Sarah. Shit.

“Dean, can you come out here please?”

“Yeah,” Dean comes out into the living room, “What’s up? Cas isn’t showing up so…”

“I don’t think this is a Gabriel thing. But it might be a Zachariah thing. Or an Ezekiel/Castiel thing.”

“Come again?”

“Ok. So theory number 1: Zachariah turned us into Sam Wesson and Dean whatever when he wanted to teach us that we would always choose to be hunters. But it was like a 9-5 thing really- working was all we were doing. We haven’t had to deal with that type of thing in a while, Zachariah I mean, and these girls have messages from family on the machine and we’re in an apartment. Which leads me to the more probable theory number 2: when Ezekiel was coming after us Cas sent us to that world where we were actors. If Ruby, or some other “she,” was coming after us, maybe Cas sent us to this “version” of ourselves. You’re Dinah Lance, and I’m Sarah Lance. Dean-uh. Sa-rah. Lance is even an old type of sword, like Winchester is a type of gun.”

Dean stares at him in abject horror, then “Goddamnit Cas! This is why he doesn’t get to ever pick where we go on a roadtrip.”

“Dean…”

“I know there are other reasons. Just give me a minute.”

“Ok.” They stand around in silence, Dean furiously glancing around the room for clues on what to do next, when Sam speaks again “Hey Dean…”

“Yeah?”

“I need to pee.” If Dean weren’t struck by sudden shock, he would be howling at the look of confusion on Sam’s face.

“Right.” With gruffness, trying to be matter-of-fact, Dean says “Ok, go to the bathroom, and just sit down, like you would if you had to do your morning dump. I think that will work.” Both of them realize that those are the simple mechanics, but they also realize this is very different territory they’re stepping into.

“Dean…”

“Yeah?”

“What if one of them has their period?” It’s almost a whisper.

“We’ll worry about that if it comes to that,” is all Dean has to say.

 

* * *

While Sam is in the bathroom, Dean begins to snoop through closets and dressers. He starts in the room of the girl he’s in. He’s almost certain Deana is a drifter staying with her sister or something, but there are no bags or suitcases anywhere, which makes him wonder where her stuff could be. The dresser has the basics- jeans and white shirts (or long-sleeved single-color thermals), as well as some stringy thongs that any other time Dean would love to see on this body. In the closet, there are a couple summery dresses, and several leather jackets. Nothing seasonal. Basically, Dean has a hard time finding anything personal out about the woman he’s inside of. Until, that is, he begins a search of the bedroom for weapons of any sort. Then he finds a stash of knives throughout the room (he counts fifteen, but he’s sure there are others). There’s also a rod by the window that he originally dismissed, but soon realizes is actually a staff.

“Who is this lady?” He shuffles over to the mirror in the room, and takes a less cursory glance then before. Beneath the slightly frilled red camisole, her abs are even more developed than he first realized, and her biceps are impressive. As he slowly turns to look over his shoulder, he realizes that her scarring is more extensive than he had realized. Dean (as much as he hates this fact) knows what torture scars look like, as opposed to run-of-the-mill car accidents or bullets. Blades have sliced at this body. He rolls up plaid pajama pants, searching for more scarring, and finds none (though there are two sheaths with thin blades). It makes him feel like he’s looking in a funhouse mirror. Tiny, blonde, lethal.

He leaves the room behind him, heading towards Ruby-Sam’s room. The room is bigger, and definitely more lived in. He didn’t notice before, but a desk has been shoved in a corner. There are manila folders and thick books lying on the desk. The window blinds are open, looking down on a street below. On the same wall, a calendar hangs, with color-coded plans and scrawls about birthdays. There’s a gym bag beneath it, with boxing gloves and a binder with fitness plans, and right next to the bag are two short stick-weapons. They make Dean think of flutes, but he knows it’s a strange comparison. He goes through the dresser, finding more clothes and a brighter array of clothing (though still mostly the basics). The closet is filled with suits and nice dresses, and a small black leather jacket hidden in the back. He has a hunch and walks over to the books on the desk- “Yep. Lawyer.” It looks like Sam was right. He got the settled down lawyer (who unfortunately shares Ruby’s fortunate-looking face), and Dean got the wandering tortured chick. Where is Sam?

“Are you done yet? Is the taking forever officially a chick thing?”

“Shut up. I’m shaving.”

“Your face?”

“No. Look, never mind. I’ll be out in a few, ok?”

Dean hears a knock on the front door which prevents him from answering. He keeps silent, hoping they’ll go away, but the knocking becomes more insistent. “Girls, are you home?”

Dean glances wide-eyed at the door, before Sam calls out of the bathroom “Dean-a, it’s Dad! Can you get that?”

Dean takes the hint for what it is, and walks quickly over to the door, opening it. On the other side of the door, there’s a balding gentleman in his fifties, dressed in khaki slacks and a nice-looking blue button-up with a jacket on top. Although he can’t really see a resemblance between him (or his own mom and dad if this is supposed to be gender-swapped them) and the man before him, there is a lot of Ruby-Sara in him. “Hey Dad. Come on in.” He’s still not used to his own voice this way, and wonders if the dad can tell. He opens the door wide, and the second the older man is through he’s being encased in a hug.

“Sara, honey, I’m so glad to see you.” Oh no, they’ve made a big mistake. “I left a message but no one called back. Laurel normally gets up by 7, but I never heard from you.” Who’s Laurel? Damnit Sam!

“We slept in today, Dad. Needed it, after last night. There was no need to worry.”

“No need to worry? Sara, we just got you back. And if you need to catch up on your rest, I can’t blame you, but then maybe you shouldn’t be going out at night.”

“Dad… it’s all good.” Yeah, this guy isn’t any variation of John, and probably not Mary either. He’s a hover parent, with constant check-ins apparently.

“Mmhmm.” He’s staring, scanning Dean’s face like he’s looking for injuries. “Where’s Laurel?”

“In the bathroom, I think.” Dean knows Sam’s in the bathroom, but is Sam Laurel? “Laurel, Dad’s here and he wants to see you.” Hopefully Sam can pick up on the hint.

Sheepishly, ‘Laurel’ emerges from the bathroom. Her hair’s pulled back and her face is a bit red, her eyes darker, and Dean realizes that Sam was never shaving- he was trying on make-up.

“Hey Dad. What’s up?”

“What’s up? I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” the tone is slightly belligerent, like he’s peeved she didn’t do her duty. John mostly directed that type of thing at Dean.

She looks slightly taken aback, but then answers. “We didn’t mean to upset you. We didn’t check the messages after we got back, and we woke up late, and I checked the messages but then I went in the restroom and was going to call you right back, but here you are.”

Dad exhales. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m just worried with these ghosts running around. The department’s in panic mode. I stopped by the bunker but no one was there. Felicity’s not picking up, and I’d rather not talk to Queen.”

Once he mentioned ghosts, Sam and Dean’s eyes flickered immediately to each other. A simple ghost problem? With salting and burning the bones? Sam immediately connects the bunker to their own Men of Letters bunker know that they know the supernatural is involved.

“It’s no problem Dad.” Sam’s trying to be mature. First he was thrown off by the name snafu, and now his theory might be shot to pieces. Were they sent here to clean up a situation no one else could?

“So, you two were safe last night right?” Does he mean hunting ghosts? Or partying? If they have to get the women’s side of the safe sex talk from this guy…

“Yeah. No problems.” Dean’s prompt.

“Good.

“So, about the ghosts…” Sam’s ready to try some digging.

“Nuh uh, you two don’t get any more involved in this than you already are. Darhk is too dangerous.”

“Right, yeah. My bad.” Their father looks at him strangely, as if he expected a fight of some sort. Sam wanted to argue, but he wasn’t sure if that was Laurel-ish of him. So is Laurel the dependable one like Dean and the argumentative one like Sam rolled into one? How does that work?

“Just… the ghosts haven’t been possessing people right?” Dean’s voice is soft, and Sam senses a slight fear in it. Does he think that they’re ghosts?

“What? No, not that we know of. Do you think Darhk could do mind-control or something? That that’s how he’s getting the ghosts to fight for him?” The father’s face is all shock, but his eyes seem to acknowledge that it could be a possibility.

“Crazier things have happened.” It’s an aside to himself on Dean’s part, but the other two both nod, their dad carefully considering Dean.

“Are you feeling alright Sara? I don’t want you stressing yourself back to death. One bad heart in the family’s enough.” He’s entirely joking, it seems, but the ‘back to death’ part piques Sam’s interest.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Dean and Sam look at each other, holding back groans. What if it’s the other roommate, or someone worse? Sam slowly lifts himself out of the couch (and in this body, it is considerably easier truth be told) and walks to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s Dean and Sam. From last night.”

Sam yanks the door open, and sure enough there’s his face towering up with Dean’s face just below to the right. “Come on in.” He never understood before, quite how imposing his height was. Now that it’s looming over him, he does. Too late, he wishes he had spread salt across the threshold, but never mind that. There’s a terse silence, before the dad speaks up.

“Girls, are you going to introduce me to your friends?” Good, they’re not supposed to know each other.

“This is Dean and Sam. We met them last night, and they’ve dealt with ghosts like these before.”

“Laurel…”

“I know what you said, but I think we can trust them.”

Sam’s body steps forward, while Dean’s stays in back, looking slightly haunted. “Captain Lance, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Your daughters spoke so highly of you.”

“Right.” Captain Lance’s look is appraising. “Girls, I’m going to go now. Call me if you need anything. I’ll pick you up for dinner around 5.” He hugs Sara’s body, then nods in the Winchester boys’ direction, and leaves, muttering to Laurel “I’ll be nearby if you need any help.” The look is wary, but also sort of helpless. “Love you kiddo.”  
Sam hasn’t heard that from a parent in so long that he allows himself to say, “Love you too Dad.” Then he closes the door and turns around.

“Dean and Sam, huh?” the voice is dark, and Dean’s face is glaring bloody murder at them both.

“Sara, calm down. I’m sure we can all resolve this.” There’s a lilt in Sam’s own voice, a challenge in his own eyes, but they’re across the room. Sam truly hopes they can resolve this, because the alternative is terrifying.

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to continue this fic, though I have not written ahead and I do not have a schedule I will be adhering to. I really just want to play with the similarities (and differences) between these two awesome pairs of siblings on the CW.
> 
> I'm taking some definite inspiration from Supernatural's "The French Mistake." If you're concerned about the Stephen Amell character tag, I have firm plans to include him as a comedic element- I will not be tinhatting or writing anything romantic for him.
> 
> Comments (including critiques) are appreciated!


End file.
